Spoiled Blood
by Woolsworth
Summary: Follow the adventures of Class 3-E and their reliable senseis as they run, hide, fight and survive against both the living and the dead in this zombie apocalypse AU. [Just a fun idea I thought of]
1. Prologue

**A/N: So I always wonder what would happen if Korosensei, our favorite sensei couple and Class E were placed in a zombie apocalypse. When the idea struck me, I immediately started writing and this is the result of it. I have a lot of ideas in mind as we progress further, so I hope you enjoy what I have to offer. **

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**Prologue...**

**Written By: Sw1tcheroo**

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"_Death is lighter than a feather, but Duty is heavier than a mountain." _

― Robert Jordan, _To the Blight_

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What's that old saying? Same stuff, different day?

It's a phrase used to describe the daily grind of our lives. You get up, eat breakfast, shower, get dressed, go to work, go home, eat dinner, watch television, hit the sack. If anyone ever asks you how things are going, you answer "same stuff, different day."

It's amazing how that phrase could apply so well to a world where all the old routines are gone. Not just gone, but tied up, dragged into the woods, shot in the back of the head, the remains burned and the ashes scattered to the four winds.

Yet as Nagisa Shiota looked upon the hordes of the undead, he was both amazed and terrified that this sight was one he was getting all too used to.

The animated corpses reached for him, though he was a good 50 feet above ground, on the roof of the Deiri Toribyun, a newspaper company which covered the comings and goings of Tokyo. Despite the futility of their attempts, they moaned, hunger ravaging their very souls, if the undead could be said to possess such things. Their hideous, pathetic wails echoed off the tall coniferous trees which surrounded the office, trees which Nagisa often looked at outside the windows. Whenever he was feeling stressed out, all he had to do was gaze upon those trees and he always felt at peace.

Two months ago, when he and his fellow classmates decided to stay put and wait for the Army or the police to rescue them, those wails made it impossible to sleep. No matter how they tried to shut them out, that constant, monotonous sound crept into the core of their being, strangling any hope or joy.

But after only 60 days, these wails, like the presence of the undead, were just another part of the daily routine.

His eyes roamed the zombies, flesh-eating ghouls without intelligence, yet driven by an insatiable desire to consume the flesh of the living. Rotted skin and flesh hung off weathered bone, evidence of advanced decay. Others merely sported the wounds which had infected them, most of which were on the neck area. No one was sure why the undead went for that spot on the human body more than any other. Maybe the flesh there just tasted sweeter.

The creatures numbered in the hundreds, filling the parking lot, the street on which the office was located, and the parking lot beside it. They all wore the clothes which labeled their place in society. Mailmen, cops, school students, convenience store workers, landscapers, plumbers, nurses. The plague wasn't picky about whom it claimed, that much was certain. As Nagisa scanned the crowd, he saw the misshapen form the former editor-in-chief. When the creatures first started showing up, she, in a panic, had tried to make a run for her car.

It had taken her three hours and twenty seven minutes to die. Nagisa remembered. He had kept track.

Now, he barely recognized her. The light in her eyes was gone, as were the pupils. Blood matted the red argyle sweater she had worn to work that day, and most of the inside of her throat, abdomen and left arm could be seen. Her intestines spilled out like spaghetti, dragging on the asphalt lot as she slowly shuffled around, no direction, no purpose behind that shambling gait.

The only way to kill a zombie is to smash in the head, destroying the brain. It's not as hard as it sounds, but by the same token, it's not as easy either. Just depends on how well you keep your wits about you. A gun works best, but if you find yourself suffering from a severe lack of firearms, a bat, crowbar, or even a handy old rock will do the trick. After the editor-in-chief had died, after she came back as one of those things, it took all his classmates and teachers to stop Nagisa from running out into the parking lot and killing her himself. _Better she die than achieve that twisted version of immortality, _he thought. Not a bad quote. Would have made for a dynamite story.

She looked up at Nagisa and snarled, a deep predatory growl, then began to moan. It was like the undead indicator they had found fresh meat. Once one found prey they would moan or growl. Soon the call would be heard by others and repeated, over and over again. For such mindless creatures, it was an effective way of communicating.

So routine had this scene become that Nagisa didn't even look up as he heard the sound of a door opening. The undead possessed few skills, opening locked doors being on the list of can't do. He turned to see his friend Kaeda Kayano walk onto the roof.

"Any luck?" he asked, although by the dejected look on her face he already knew the answer.

She shook her head. "All we get is that automated message telling us to lock the doors and wait for help. I doubt the police are still around. Korosensei checked to confirm it just now."

"Sure they are. I see two of them right there," a nonchalant voice said as Karma Akabane sauntered over to the edge and pointed down.

They followed his finger and sure enough, spied two officers, one with half his face missing and the other with one arm torn off at the elbow. Their skin had taken on a gray, pallid tone since they changed, a common enough occurrence in any corpse once the blood stopped circulating. They snarled and tried to reach for the two humans on the roof, but they had no chance of ever getting them.

Zombies are mindless creatures, only capable of climbing stairs or opening a door so long as it isn't shut or locked. Anything beyond that is beyond them.

Kayano gave Nagisa a nudge. "Come inside," she said, getting to her feet. "You're going to drive yourself nuts if you stay up here all day."

"At this point that'd be the shortest trip on record." Karma remarked. "You head inside and take a break, Nagisa. I'll play lookout for now."

"Are you sure, Karma-kun?" he asked wearily.

He didn't bother giving a verbal response and nodded. Karma dropped the guitar case he was carrying and pulled out a sniper rifle. He dismantled it and stripped it down and was now cleaning each piece lovingly with a well-used rag. As Nagisa and Kayano went back inside, they could hear the redhead whistling an unfamiliar tune that blended with the zombies moaning.

From attempts to assassinating their supernatural teacher who threatened to destroy the earth to surviving in a zombie apocalypse…what more could Class E possibly take?


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just want to say thank you for those who've favorited and followed my story. It means a lot to me that their are people who are enjoying this idea. I should note that this chapter was written...a little bit rushed due to my tight schedule, but I hope it's still good, possibly some grammar mistakes, but yeah...enjoy! **

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**Chapter 1...**

**Written By: 2BFP (Changed my Username)**

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_"Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'_

_'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him."_

– George R.R. Martin__, _A Game of Thrones___

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_2 months ago…_

They began with deafening screams laced with pain and agony that traveled through Nagisa's ear-canal. He paused from finishing his math homework assigned by Korosensei, and went to investigate the commotion. The shrieks and cries for help caused a dozen chills to crawl down his spine in a spiderlike fashion. They could probably make the bravest men knees turn to jelly.

The evening sunlight filtered through the Shiota residence window crystals sober and colorless. He brushed aside the last vestiges of drowsiness and opened the window to peek at the outside world. A pungent, nauseating smell wafting through the air assailed his nose and every other in the vicinity. The source, however, made both eyes fervently pray for their visions to be impaled. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. At first, it seemed like a figment of his imagination, but this was hysterically a twisted version of reality. He clasped a hand over his mouth, shaking spastically, and reflexively turned away from the horrendous sight making him grimace.

Rivulets of sweat rolled down his cheeks. He could barely stomach this unpleasant scene longer. His entire body was rebellious; refusing to move a muscle. So fundamentally, this phenomenon was nowhere near being normal. Before he knew, Nagisa became submissive, and disgorged his acidic lunch, creating massive pools of vomit ancient as they were produced from escaping out his gastrointestinal tract. Hearing the struggling chokes and gasps made him feverish. Paralyzed by his own repulsion. Vehemently, he wanted to start venting his anger and frustration.

Nagisa slowly rose to his feet and, as though magnetically attracted, stared toward the disasters forming outside his house. This gruesomely inimitable act committed was never perpetrated by mere humans. The ones responsible were far worse than you could comprehend. Decomposing, rotting, decaying, unhealthy, sickly. These words were appropriate to describe the nightmarish creatures that wandered aimlessly with no particular goal in mind, but to consume sheer flesh.

_Zombies._

The neighborhood was flooded with animated corpses floundering. Their repetitious groaning was unsynchronized, but still a chorus of cannibals. Zombies were famous in the horror movie franchise and apocalyptic genre, but those were enjoyed through the screen of a television or pages of a novel. How could something fictional become real? Millions of questions swarmed his head, but finding the answers to solve them was unattainable.

The entire street was painted in a coating of red. The grotesque, deformed bodies bedraggled with blood once contained inside were haphazardly strewn about. Some missing heads, arms, legs, hands, feet, and torsos. The neighbors who managed to survive this massacre had secured themselves in the safety of their homes, but they should not be too comfortable. The zombies hammered on the windows, trying to shatter the glass preventing them from having entrance.

Nagisa felt like a lost child, unsure of what to do next. He had to evacuate the area, and search for his mother. The number of zombies is rapidly increasing and soon this neighborhood would be overwhelmed. He took a moment to recuperate his courage and strength; clearing his mind from negative thoughts and maintained his sanity. Once his body was in a relaxed composure, he dashed toward the kitchen and started gathering the necessary tools when placed in such a precarious position. He grabbed knives, a lighter, canned food, and anything that seemed useful for later. Storing the items into his bag, Nagisa pocketed one of the knives incase he engaged a zombie or two. He was all set and ready to face the horrors awaiting him.

Until he saw _her_…

Four zombies were sloppily feeding away on _her_ like she was a free buffet. They chewed and peeled off the skin, sinking their teeth deep into her meat. Eyes glazed over and blood caking, intestines forcefully being removed by the mediocre gastric bypass surgery the zombies done.

_Mother._

Just an hour ago, she went out to buy groceries to celebrate his accomplishments at the school festival. She wanted to prepare a special dinner for tonight, cook one of Nagisa's favorite meals. She had finally come to an understanding and accepted Nagisa properly. They were standing on neutral grounds. Mother and son being able to live happily together…was it a lie? Tears swelled his eyes and he couldn't conceal his emotions. He sobbed uncontrollably, cheeks turning puffy. She was gone. She was dead. She was never coming back. How did everything fall apart?

"Take me…" Nagisa spoke in a faint whisper. "Just…just take me."

The zombies had noticed his presence. They moaned to each other so dull and tediously as they sought for their prey. Nagisa would have shouted for aid to his lungs content, if he didn't desire to be killed. He didn't care about living anymore. That sense of loneliness commandeered him. He subjugated to sadness. He was not afraid of departing from this world. He knew his mother would be greeting him at the gates of heaven or hell. He could feel the warmth in her big hugs. He wouldn't be alone. He forbade it. Being eaten was for the best.

Quickly, Nagisa was surrounded by undead emerging from the trees, bushes, houses and street. Snarling zombies, some with their entire faces torn off, revealing jawbones and skulls. He didn't bother to raise a weapon and defend himself. No point in delaying the inevitable. Nagisa smiled as they reached for him. Perhaps the next time around when everyone is reborn, the world may be a better place.

"Already giving up, Nagisa?" a voice asked as something yellow rubbed his shoulder. "That's not like you at all."

Nagisa raised his head. Beside him stood an octopus-like monster about three meters tall with a large bulbous head, an emoticon smile and small beady eyes. He wore a black academic dress, a small black square academic cap with a yellow tassel and a black tie with a crescent moon on it.

"K-Korosensei…" he said surprised.

"Who else would come to their student's rescue?" he chuckled, wiggling his tentacles.

Suddenly, the heads of a dozen undead exploded, and without a sound they fell to the cracked asphalt. As hard as it was to take their gazes from the walking corpses, neither could help but notice the figure striding towards them, a figure who was clearly alive. Discarding a spent pistol, the man, wearing body armor from head to toe, drew a fireman's axe and calmly approached the horde of cannibals. In an act of incredible courage – or just freaking insanity – the figure attacked the undead, the swings of his axe denoting a unique skill when it came to dispatching zombies. One by one, the undead fell, heads severed or cleaved in two. The remaining zombies turned to this new figure, as if recognizing he was the greater threat.

It was Tadaomi Karasuma, Class E's physical education teacher and an agent of the Ministry of Defense sent to supervise Korosensei.

In minutes, it was all over. Covered in blood and gore, Karasuma-sensei looked like a hardened veteran, the fear which froze his soul invisible on his face. Calmly placing the axe into a holster on his back, brushing bits of bone off his black garb, he gestured to Korosensei. "Grab him, and let's go before more decide to join in on the action." he said.

Suddenly a lone undead, forgotten in the battle, reared up and bit Karasuma-sensei on the neck. Though sporting a fresh head wound, the axe had not cut deep enough to destroy the brain. Against anyone else, the bite would have spelled instant death. But, against the armor, rotted teeth shattered like, well, rotted teeth.

A look of confusion crossed the zombie's face as if aware its attack had failed. Karasuma-sensei nodded, acknowledging the expression. "Sorry to disappoint you." He swung his elbow in a wide arc, the impact shattering the creature's head, killing it instantly. In the faint light of the sky, Nagisa could see a steel elbow guard.

Karasuma-sensei left without a word as he headed down the street. Korosensei lifted Nagisa off his feet and carried him away. Nagisa wanted to debate about staying, but strangely, he did not resist. He fell quiet and closed his eyes. Why wouldn't he fight to get away? Why was that urge to be killed disappearing? Why did he feel like his mother would want this?

"Everyone's waiting for you, Nagisa." Korosensei said, breaking the silence that reigned.

Nagisa raised a curious eyebrow. "Who?"

"You're classmates. We've already rounded them up. You were the last one. They were worried you might be in danger."

"They were?" he asked.

"Of course. Don't you remember? Class E is your second family and I'm sure your mother would not want you to throw your life away. Cherish her in your memories, Nagisa. Never forget her."

Karasuma-sensei thumbed the button on his remote to unlock the car. He entered the driver's seat and plugged the key into the ignition system. Korosensei placed Nagisa in the back before dashing ahead at Mach 20.

"Where is he going?"

"To clear out any undead blocking the road. We're heading toward the Deiri Toribyun. I have a friend who works there that can help us." Karasuma-sensei said as they drove down the road.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: So i'm glad to see that traffic is slowly building for this story, and pleased to see that people have taken the interest of this type of AU. I tried to make this chapter a little relaxed, because the next chapter is when things get pretty intense. May seem kind of...odd, I suppose, but hey, i'm pretty happy with it. Either way, hope you enjoy this chapter and will stick around to continue reading the rest.**

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**Chapter 2...**

**Written By: 2BFP**

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__"If you are caught unprepared by a sudden rainstorm, you should not run foolishly down the road or hide under the eaves of houses. You are going to get soaked either way. Accept that from the beginning and go on your way. This way you will not be distressed by a little rain. Apply this lesson to everything."__

\- Tsunetomo Yamamoto_, _Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai__

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_Present…_

The unblemished morning sky was smothered with a thick overcast of gray clouds that were preparing themselves to unleash precipitation upon the surface underneath their height. The breeze outside was cold and oily. Vehicles were lined across the streets like dominos, but nobody occupied any of the seats except for some rotting corpses. Stores were abandoned and vandalized by looters who would swing by and gather supplies essential for their survival. The zombies had no interest with going shopping – they never had any interests to begin with other than hunting down humans. Those obstreperous wails and growls reverberated throughout Tokyo. They would never learn when to stay quiet. Cutting the trachea to disconnect it from the pharynx and larynx wouldn't even help, because they don't need the passage of air to breathe. Zombies are sort of immortal, unless you strike their vital source that activates them.

Yuma Isogai, the male representative of Class E, sat on the curve of the sidewalk outside the newspaper company. The parking lot was infested with the undead, but the entrance side was cleared and secured. The security cameras were accessible and still in working condition to survey the perimeters, however, Karasuma was cautious and wanted someone reliable to stay on guard due to blind spots. Isogai merely volunteered to keep watch willingly, knowing that it could be dangerous if a zombie horde or a group of bandits came strolling by with murderous intentions. Someone had to be the eagle eyes on the ground, and who better than him? He carried the basic weapons for defense: a silenced pistol so they wouldn't attract any attention and a knife if the numbers are perfect for close combat. Most of the weapons they retrieved were from breaking and entering police storage racks at the stations. Others were found from deceased survivors that didn't have the leprechaun's luck, uninhabited camps, or supposed "safe zones."

A small ant came crawling along the pavement close to Isogai's feet. He noticed it was carrying a bread crumb in its sharp mandible; probably taking it back to its colony somewhere nearby. Through curiosity, Isogai dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a magnifying glass. He could see an opening within the vast sea of clouds, the sun peeking out from behind them to say salutation. After taking a few attempts to focus the lens directly on both targets he finally managed to shine the light over the insect accurately. The antennae's mounted on the ants head were twitching violently as it was suddenly caught on fire and cooked into a crisping carcass. He never understood why children gained satisfaction from performing a cruel act like this.

"We're almost running out of snacks and drinks from the vending machines." An approaching voice said that was all too familiar. With quick reflexes he caught the tossed soda with no problem and gave a wry smile to his friend, Hiroto Maehara. "Thought you might be dying from dehydration. Aren't I considerate?"

"Thanks," Isogai responded. "My throat was feeling a bit parched."

"So what are you doing with that magnifying glass?"

"Burning ants."

"Burning ants?" Maehara repeated. "You do realize the biologist is going to be pissed at you for picking on the little guys, right?"

"By biologist you mean Kurahashi, right?" Isogai questioned.

"Bingo," he said. "You should be glad she isn't the type of person to roast your balls on a hibachi, man.

The schoolboys laughed at the thought as time silently ticked away. The atmosphere nowadays was a gloomy and depressing one. Obviously the apocalypse had taken a heavy toll on them. Approximately 1440 hours have passed after losing their family, friends, neighbors, and others who knew them. How bizarre it felt just thinking about them when they've accustomed to their deaths. Some students could barely remember the faces of their parents, while others didn't mind forgetting. Besides, before all of this took shape, Class E was a combination of embarrassment and downtrodden. They were all failures, delinquents, misfits, and the wholesale corruption that didn't seem to have a brightening future ahead. Surprising how they've managed to overcome countless of obstacles such as Akira Takaoka, the board chairman Gakuho Asano, the God of Death, and Shiro. Victory may have been in their clairvoyant reach when battling against them, but this was a greater challenge to surpass. Enemies more dangerous than all of them together. If they weren't careful with planning out their strategies, they would be doomed.

"Say…now that the rules don't apply to this world anymore, do you think we're allowed to drink beer?" Maehara asked as he chugged his soda and sighed in relief as a compliment.

Isogai pondered about it for a minute before answering: "I guess so…Bitch-sensei might love to have us as drinking buddies since she's getting kind of lonely, Korosensei might be easy to manipulate since he's pretty gullible and…well, let's just hope Karasuma-sensei never finds out that we had this conversation."

"Oh, but I'm sure he would love to hear about your little chitchat." A hoarse voice abruptly interrupted which caused them both to freeze up as the clicking of the hammer being pulled down to cock the gun was heard. Someone was ready to fire, but they hoped this person wasn't another trigger happy fellow. "Okay, kiddies. I want you to drop whatever's hiding in your pockets, under your sleeves, and any other places where you can cram a weapon." The gunman ordered. "Otherwise, I'll pop a bullet in your head."

_Shit, _Maehara thought biting his upper lip.

_Where the hell did this guy come from, _Isogai wondered as they reluctantly followed his instructions.

"Good…that's good. Now is that everything emptied out? Or do I have to come over there and check?" he asked in a sibilant tone, and probably a pedophilic grin sprawled on his face that made them nervous.

"We carry light." Isogai said. "Just silencers and knives, I swear."

"Heh, better not be lying to me. Because the last time somebody lied to me…things took an ugly turn for the worse. Now, turn around and let me get a look at your faces. Nice and slowly." One thing that Isogai noticed was that pinch of agitation and anxiety when the gunman spoke. His conscience told him that he was inexperienced with shooting or even killing another person. He might portray himself as threatening to them, but the opportunity to take advantage of this hostage situation was lingering. Maehara must've been aware of it, too.

The gunman's appearance wasn't a wonderful sight that could swoon women. He was estimated around the ages between late forties to early fifties. He had green eyes that gave a psychotic vibe, messy blonde hair, a thick beard, a tattered white shirt and blue jeans, and no shoes protecting his exposed bare feet. He wasn't muscularly built, so they could restrain him from escaping.

"Tell me something, sir." Maehara spoke. "What exactly did you do to the last person who lied to you?"

"Wha—"

"How did you deal with this liar, hmm?" he pressed further. "Did you stab 'em? Shoot 'em? Burn 'em?"

"Tha-That's none of your concern! You just listen to me, understa—"

"So that means you didn't kill the liar?" Isogai supplied, seeing what Maehara was trying to accomplish.

"N-No…I did! I killed that liar." The gunman wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"But you won't tell us how." Maehara said in a suspicious tone. "Maybe…the zombies must have killed the liar, and you're only taking credit for it. If I were to guess, you probably ran away like a scared little girl crying for mommy and wetting his pants. Now don't tell me that didn't happen, because that would make you the liar then, wouldn't it?"

"Shut up…JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"You've never killed a person before," Isogai said calmly. "You only fill your head with that belief just to conceal your fear and abhorrence, but all that's making you do is constantly spew utter nonsense. You can continue pretending to be tough, but sooner or later you're going to come across the wrong group of people and once they sense your hesitation, you'll be dead within seconds. Maybe, if you knew what it means to kill, you could point a gun at someone without your hand shaking. Because that guarantees you'll miss and waste conserving a bullet."

"How the hell are you not afraid?!" The gunman asked. "You're gonna DIE! I'm holding the gun here, and your acting like it isn't a big deal! How could you stay so calm and collective?!"

"Well, I can confirm that this IS not a big deal. You aren't even worth being frightened of." Maehara said.

_We sound like asshole imitations of Karma, _Isogai thought.

"ENOUGH!" The gunman barked. "I'll show you that I can kill someone…I'll show both of you that I can kill two annoying brats!" He drunkenly moved his arm and steadied it at Isogai.

_THWIP!_

The gunman screamed loudly as an unexpected bullet penetrated straight through the dorsum of his hand. Blood oozed from the wound as he staggered backward in panic. With the firearm dropped, the gunman was unguarded. In a last ditch effort, he attempted to reclaim ownership of the weapon, but someone agile and flexible interfered. The gymnast, Hinata Okano, swung her leg and slammed one knee into his stomach, before delivering a heavy side-kick to the face. When the gunman collapsed, in his view, the asphalt ground looked like it rose up to slap him.

"Restrain him!" Isogai yelled as he and Maehara pinned the gunman. He wriggled and struggled to break free, but could only curse underneath his breath. Megu Kataoka arrived with two bags full of supplies hanging over her shoulder. It became clear she discharged the gun to save them.

"Welcome back." Maehara said. "How was the supply trip?"

"We weren't able to find much." Okano said. "So, aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend who was prepared to murder you both without a second thought? Because you seem to get along quite well with each other when it comes to crazy stunts."

"Seriously, what were you both thinking?" Kataoka asked, disapproving of their methods with handling the situation. "I would expect provocation from someone like Karma, but I genuinely thought you both would try to negotiate, find some way to alert our teachers, or even stall for time."

"But we were stalling for time." Isogai admitted.

"Really?" The girls asked, unintentionally synced. Even Maehara was confused as he must have misinterpreted Isogai's intentions.

"Yeah, when he asked us to remove our weapons, I checked the time on my wristwatch to see how much longer we had until you returned from your run. I knew you two would have been the first to notice our predicament, so we had to stall him someway…although, I wasn't really expecting Maehara to add fuel to the fire."

"So what if we didn't come back on time?" Kataoka asked. "What would you have done then?"

"Let's…not discuss about that." Isogai mumbled nervously.

"Well, everything worked out in the end as it should. So because we defeated the villain, how would you girls like to reward us for our heroic services?" Maehara asked, smiling to show off his pristine teeth as they began tying the gunman's wrists and ankles tightly with the rope the girls brought back.


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: I have returned! And I have changed my account's username again because people kept bugging me about how weird the last one sounded, and it did sound weird, so now it's gone! Anyway, I would like to apologize for the weeks that went by. After my trip to the hospital, I had to catch up with school and a couple of other things. And also, I needed to concentrate on exams, which are now over and done with! Hooray! So, I'm going to try my best to get these chapters rolling again! I'm also shocked at the amount of favorites and follows this story received, and it touched my heart that people are enjoying the story and are not worried that I may one day decide to massacre the entire classroom with the snap of a finger...but that might not happen...but it could since this is a zombie apocalypse AU. Anyway, the long wait has ended, so I hope you're all set and ready to dive back into some AssClass zombie fun! Might be some grammar errors.**

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**Chapter 3...**

**Written By: DoubleBarreledShotgun**

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_"Why do you think the old stories tell of men who set out on great journeys to impress the gods? Because trying to impress people just isn't worth the time and effort."_

\- Henry Rollins

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_Hours later..._

The small group of zombies dragged their tainted bodies across the floor, leaving a disturbing trail of both blood and intestines spilling out. Some were still unimpaired, but their shredded knees and bullet-riddled legs spoke otherwise. The bastards continued pulling themselves as though they were chained to a heavy iron ball. Ryoma Terasaka's stomach was churning like a machine agitating milk and cream in order to produce butter. Seeing the crimson path formed made the zombies look like massive disfigured snails without a shell protecting their backs. A situation where your pushed into a corner, running low on ammunition and having to prevent a horde of undead from tearing you asunder was conventional. However, shooting an undead that can't walk made aiming for the heads much easier.

The sound of door bursting open behind him nearly caused Terasaka to jump straight into the zombies' clutches.

His two friends, Takuya Muramatsu and Taisei Yoshida, were finished with knocking down the stupid thing that isolated them from escaping. Without any verbal responses the four dashed down the hallway and bolted for the staircase as they avoided the limping zombies that came out from the rooms looking for a snack. They could hear the moans and growls fading as they entered the third floor. A trip to the hospital to collect medical supplies was merely a recipe for disaster. Undead doctors, nurses, surgeons, and patients swarmed the building like bees swarming their hive, but they weren't intimidated by numbers. They were working as a solid team together: coordinated, communicating, and efficient. Two months is all it took for them to overcome their initial horror and disbelief. They were each assigned a specific job suitable for their individual talents: plan, defend, or gather. All this training they had received to kill a octopus creature that became their teacher was being utilized appropriately.

_Thud, thud, thud._

Someone, or something, was bumping against the inside of a sealed surgical room repeatedly like there was no tomorrow. The sound echoed around the empty halls that they cleared out: all those creatures rhythmically throwing themselves into the doors. Terasaka decided to call out to see if anyone was still alive, but they only heard the thumping grow faster and frantic. The hallway was littered with abandoned clipboards and paperwork. A few stretchers carried mangled and decomposed corpses, some wearing oxygen masks. The lights illuminating their route were beginning to flicker which gave a creepy and ominous ambiance. They passed the nursery where the babies were kept, and could hear the snarls of newborn zombies tossing a storm in their bassinets. Dread powdered their emotions. Infants don't deserve such terrible fates like this. Reaching the hallway's end, they found a security guard sprawled across on his stomach drowning in a pool of blood. Chunks of flesh had been torn off his face and his torso.

"I'll go," Terasaka said reloading his pistol with a click. He stepped past the others and slowly approached the corpse, carbine trained directly on its occiput. The dead man's eyes fluttered open and he coughed violently, blood sliding down his chin.

"He's alive," Muramatsu cried before Terasaka accidently pulled the trigger. "He's still alive!"

"Terasaka, don't delay our time." Hazama abruptly said. "Do it."

"Right..." he said, as his stare interweaved with the security guard's pleading eyes. Obviously he was infected. The evidence was visible all over his body. They could not estimate the time he had remaining, but they knew he would undergo that twisted transformation sooner then later. Besides, seeing how he struggled onto his side made it crystal clear that he was already shuffling off his proverbial mortal coil. The signs were written on him. His breathing was very labored and his skin took on a pale, pallid tone. They assumed he had nightmares in his sleep and was delirious when awake. Putting him out of his misery would be a merciful option, yes.

Muramatsu, however, didn't agree.

He started forward, but Yoshida placed a hand on his chest. "We can find a doctor! We can..." Muramatsu tried getting past Yoshida, who was forced to shove him backwards onto his ass.

"Don't interfere," he said harshly. "This new world consist of two things: life and death. We'll need to adjust to these conditions and remove our previous identities. We're no longer going to be afraid of killing an actual human in order to survive... not when he is already lying on his deathbed. Understand? We need to become adults."

"Bullshit!" Muramatsu retorted scrambling to his feet. "We are all going up to that conference room and we're going to find a doctor! Terasaka, you of all people should know this is morally wrong! You stopped Nagisa from killing that lunatic Takaoka, remember? Why won't you stop yourself from killing someone who has done no harm?"

"Don't remind me, Muramatsu. I don't need you to give me a lecture. But to answer your little question, the only reason why I will not stop myself is because Nagisa was alive and had a lot to lose. This guy seems to have already lost everything precious to him, including his life. We can't do anything to help him."

"But you don't know that!" Muramatsu slipped between Yoshida and Hazama. Terasaka aimed the pistol at the security guard's forehead, distracted by his monotonous gasping. Muramatsu threw himself at Terasaka, tackling him into the wall and caused the gun to discharge into the ceiling. They struggled for a minute, with Terasaka having the upper advantage, until Yoshida appeared behind the distressed teen and grabbed his arm, bending his wrist painfully toward his forearm until he collapsed to his knees. "Damn it!" he cried. "You can't do this! You can't!" But he knew they wouldn't listen. His attempts at stopping them proved fruitless as trying to squeeze silver from a silverfish.

Hazama sighed as she watched Muramatsu break. She understood his reasons, but they could not follow through. Picking up the pistol, she turned to Terasaka and handed him his weapon. "Shoot." she said coldly that it could almost freeze his ears. "We should not overstay our visit here at the hospital. All the doctors are clearly dead, and I do not want Muramatsu dragging a zombie's corpse over here just because it's wearing a white coat."

Without giving her a verbal response, Terasaka took aim and fired two shots into the security guard's head. Blood oozed out the wound from where the bullet penetrated through his skin. His eyes were white as an albino stag beetle. Suddenly, the surgical doors were busted open. A multitude of zombies streamed out and drunkenly hobbled toward the group, attracted by the pistol's noise. Yoshida released Muramatsu and lifted him off the floor. Not a single word was said, but Muramatsu was quiet after that, and refused to look his friends in the eye. The raving zombies were getting warmer and they couldn't waste another second. They grabbed their bags packed with medical supplies and ran like the wind as the zombies pursued them.

They proceeded to the stairs and found a tangle of heavy furniture blocking the access to the next floor below. Muramatsu and Hazama stood guard as their muscle boys removed enough furniture so they could squeeze past the barricade and make a beeline to the next floor. They prowled the second and first floor, finding it was still deserted except for the zombies tied to beds. Their growling and thrashing was getting tiresome, but the team didn't have the ammo to perform euthanasia on all of them.

As they were about to exit the hospital, a zombie they had thought was dead reanimated and latched a hand onto Hazama, yanking her to its height. The zombie exposed its yellow, rotting teeth. Hazama squirmed and wriggled like a worm trying to reclaim the gun that was knocked away from her. As the zombie prepared to chomp off her nose, a bullet slammed straight into its mouth. The zombie dropped silently onto her chest as she pushed it off with great disgust. Muramatsu stood over her and extended an arm.

"Come on! We need to go!" he said hoisting her up.

"We've got company!" Terasaka yelled readying his pistol as zombies outside slowly entered the hospital through the entrance doors. The group stood together, shoulder by shoulder, as they fought for their survival. Taking out every single zombie that thought it had a chance of killing them. Within minutes, the zombies had been slaughtered. They raced past the bodies and immediately breathed in the fresh evening air as they finally escaped the damn hospital. The declining sun that seemed to be spreading across the sky like a poisoned egg was mixed between yellow, orange, and a tint of pink. When night struck zombies were very dangerous.

If they came late, everyone would probably worry and send Korosensei, or Karasuma-sensei, to find them. Thankfully, that wouldn't be necessary because they were freed from that hell.

Sitting on the rooftop on the building across the hospital, a man carrying a sniper watched the group as they fled down the dead street with bodies laying here and there through his scope. He wore a commercially manufactured ghillie suit augmented with scraps of foliage from the area to blend with the loose strips of burlap on the garment. Since they entered the hospital, he had been waiting patiently to see whether they would return alive or be eaten by the big onslaught rumbling inside. His dark pair of sunglasses absorbed the fading sunlight as he had nested their comfortably, listening to the gunshots. He was surprised to see them unharmed without missing any body parts, or receiving any fatal injuries. That confirmed they were not ordinary students. They were definitely assassins; ones that could become a potential threat.

"Unfortunate..." he muttered as he departed.


End file.
